


The Matter At Hand

by Lasgalendil



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: I'm Sorry Tolkien, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-27
Updated: 2015-08-27
Packaged: 2018-04-17 11:23:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4664736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lasgalendil/pseuds/Lasgalendil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It's only subtext!" J.R.R. Tolkien</p>
<p>...I'm not shipper trash, you're shipper trash.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Matter At Hand

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [A Very, Very Short Gimli/Legolas Story](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/139698) by Iocane. 



“Mahal-damned Elves,” Gimli sighed, blowing smoke-rings with his pipe. “Must I teach you everything?”

“I’ve never done it before!” Legolas said. “Not all of us are so travelled!”

“Then I suppose we should start the night with something easy?” Gimli mused.

“And what would a Dwarf of many journeys suggest?”

“You are a Wood-Elf, are you not?" the Dwarf pondered. "And have you any objections to this wood of mine?”

“I should think not,” Legolas replied. “Although in truth you must forgive me, I am used to only handling my own slender bone.”

“The experience is hardly comparable,” Gimli chuckled. “Come, Master Elf! If you would but consent to let me, I would reveal to you the fabled craftmanship of Dwarves!”

“And if I say yes,” the Elf returned. “do you promise to be patient with one so ill-learned?”

“Say not so,” Gimli frowned, extinguishing his pipe. “Ill-practiced, perhaps. Come here!”

The Elf sat before him.“And what would you teach me this night?”

“Your hands, it would seem, are rather soft. Perhaps we should put them to some use?” Gimli reached down to his belt and brought out his impressive shaft. Legolas only stared, transfixed by the majestic sight. “Thoughts, Master Elf?”

“In truth I have seen it before, but never have I admired it so closely.”

“And what say a Wood-Elf on the matter of length and girth?”

“Truly your tales do not do it justice. But in the matter of stiffness?”

“Touch it, Master Elf, if still you doubt,” Gimli brought the stiff rod up to it’s fullest height. “I think you will find it’s hardness does not disappoint.”

“Ai, Óli!” the Elf gasped, trembling fingers grasping hold, stroking the shaft down its long length from base to tip. “It is indeed magnificent!”

“Gently!” The Dwarf cried as the Elf’s slender hands explored in full. “You’re meant to rub it, not tug!”

“But I thought you said to be wary of your Dwarvish weapon, that it was no toy?” the Elf smirked.

“In the right hands, who can say?” the Dwarf grunted appreciatively as the Elf’s soothing hands continued their careful work. “Here, Elf,” Gimli poured oil down the length of the thick shaft as the Elf massaged it in. “Much better.”

He groaned in impatience as the Elf’s hands glided ever faster and faster. He let out a loud sigh. “You are a slow student,” Gimli chastised, “for an Elf.”

“And you,” the Elf frowned between gentle strokes along the stiff, oil-slicked rod, “are a terrible teacher. For such a travelled Dwarf.”

“Second thoughts, lad?” Gimli asked him kindly.

“No—it’s just taking much more time than I had expected. I thought surely—“ the Elf flushed. “I did not realize I had such little skill.”

“You will improve with time,” Gimli assured him.

“How long—?”

“As long as it takes, Elf! Surely you wouldn’t leave the job half-finished?” he asked, horrified. “’T would be most cruel!”

“But Gimli, surely you are not so unskilled a workman you could not finish what I have begun?” Legolas teased.

“’T would be a shame, as your own skill has improved considerably with practice.”

The Elf flushed. “You say that only because you would have me do it again.”

“Aye, Elf,” Gimli said. “I find I am guilty as a fox in a hen-house. I would have your hands against my haft every night, Mahal permitted. And if he would not, yet would I have your hands, Master Elf.”

“Then you shall have them,” the Elf insisted, continuing his work. “For your stout legs and stiff axe are a comfort to me. Where you go, I will go.”

“I confess, Master Elf, you have the better of me, and find me at my most vulnerable. Nonetheless, I would say you likewise,” they shuddered together in pleasure as the task was finished, and thick stream of liquid came pouring from its tip.

“Mahal-damnit, that was good, Elf! You are indeed a quick study,” Gimli handed the Elf a stained silk rag. “Now wipe it clean.”

“There, Gimli!” Legolas said. “Your axe-handle looks good as new!”


End file.
